


For What It's Worth

by Pearl Gatsby (DrPearlGatsby)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Ben, Ben Solo Deserved Better, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M, Fluff, Humor, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Kind of meta, Like everyone deserved better, Rated Teen for swears, Rey Needs A Hug, post-TROS coping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23119261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrPearlGatsby/pseuds/Pearl%20Gatsby
Summary: Rey is upset about the ending of her favorite movie franchise, Space Opera, when that jerk Ben Solo decides to crash her pity party.[[Fluffy, self-indulgent coping-mechanism AU written after TROS. Rated T for swears.]]
Relationships: Rey & Ben Solo, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 10
Kudos: 79





	For What It's Worth

She’s empty.

Inside, Poe’s _Space Opera_ finale party is in full swing—she can hear the sounds of people laughing and shouting and music blasting through the closed door. It’s not very much of a _Space Opera_ party so much as it’s a Poe party, a let’s-find-an-excuse party. At least there’s that to be grateful for. That, and that Poe and Finn are finally an item, so Finn is too distracted to notice her prolonged absence.

The tears came first—the sobbing, the ugly crying—but now she’s still, feeling the chill where the moisture is drying on her face. She’s in a new _Space Opera_ hoodie, one she bought for the purpose of the premiere. In the image on her shirt, the villain—Kira—looms in the background like the Great Evil Force she’s supposed to be.

_It’s over_.

It was Kira who had helped her understand the dark corners inside of herself, Kira who acted out the anger Rey felt, and Kira’s almost-lover Kylo who stepped into her life with love and understanding that was _just_ fairytale-prince enough. And now the trilogy was over, and Kira was dead.

Oh, it had been a beautiful death. Tragic and sweet and not without a moment of payoff between Kira and Kylo—but that was it. Her story was over.

_It’s just a movie_ , Rey tries to tell herself. _It’s just a movie_ , she’d chanted when the lights went up, digging her fingernails into her arm so as not to start crying. She’d worn a mask of detachment the whole way home in Rose’s car, covering up the way she ached inside by singing dramatically to the radio.

But it’s not _just_ a movie. Not to Rey. When they got back to Poe’s, she’d hung around the living room as everyone trickled over from the movie theater, answered the door for other friends who were just looking for an excuse to hang out. She’d made a show of bringing drinks to Rose and Finn and even awful Armitage. But as soon as the crowd seemed sufficient for slipping away, she’d crept out to the back porch and sunk down onto the stairs to weep.

Something about Kira and Kylo had been like hope. Kylo was stable, loyal, ready to roll with the punches. He was the only character in the whole universe who could’ve given Kira a happy ending. Kira, who had grown evil after enduring years of evil actions. Kira, who was only trying to survive. Kira, whose story Rey had imagined over and over—in a thousand alternate universes, a thousand iterations. In one of those universes, Kira was a college student like Rey. In all of those universes, Kira deserved a happy ending.

The door behind her opens with a creak and Rey flinches, trying to compose her face. There’s no back-porch light, but between the just-waning moon and the light shining out from inside the house, she knows she’s been spotted.

Whoever it is doesn’t move, shutting the door quietly. She expects Finn—“Is that you, Peanut?” She imagines Rose: “Hey girl, you’re acting a little off. What’s up?” She braces herself for Poe: “The party’s _in_ side!” But none of those voices come. Finally there’s a sound of footsteps, then a soft noise of someone clearing their throat.

“Mind if I sit here, too?”

The voice is a deep baritone and Rey looks up in spite of herself. Sure enough, it’s the last person she would’ve expected—Poe’s stoic classmate, Ben Solo.

Rey turns away before the light can illuminate her face too long, before he can see the tears or the disappointment. “Go ahead. I mean, not that you’re missing anything.” Rey always feels jumpy around Ben. The first night she’d met him, she’d tried flirting with him over dinner and he’d practically ignored her. Now she just avoids speaking to him, still feeling the sting from his rejection.

Beside her, Ben sits down on the steps, arranging his long arms and legs. Even with his exaggerated features--his pouty lips, his wide ears, the severe shape of his nose, his overlong limbs--he’s an attractive man; but she tries not to notice things like that about him anymore. He sighs, and Rey glances at him for a moment before looking away. He’s facing out into the dark backyard when he asks, “Not a _Space Opera_ fan?”

Rey doesn’t have to try very hard to stop herself from laughing out loud, even though she wants to. She’d begun following the story of Kira in late middle school—Kira, an orphan like her, who had grown hard and angry and operated in a morally grey space. Kira was a polarizing character, the kind of character who inspired constant vitriol between the two camps (for and against) on the internet. The fandom drama—like all fandom drama—was dull but vicious, so she always held her tongue. Rey doesn’t think she could bear anyone putting Kira down. Especially now. She draws her legs up closer to her chest, resting her feet on the step just below her and hugging her knees. “Just not a party fan,” she finally says.

“Seems like you usually have fun.”

Rey glances at him sharply, but what she can see of his expression doesn’t indicate any malice. If anything, he seems… a little sad. “Maybe,” she shrugs. “I’m just not feeling it tonight.”

Beside her, Ben sighs again. Rey sneaks another glance at him—his long, dark hair falling softly across his face. Ben skulks around at the edge of their friend group, hardly ever speaking to anyone except when, now and then, he interjects a perfectly-placed insult; but in this light, you almost wouldn’t know it.

He blows out another long breath. “Can I tell you something stupid?”

She’s surprised when he turns and looks directly at her. All she can do is nod.

“I really hate _Space Opera_.”

Rey wishes she could take it back. _No, no, please. Don’t tell me something. Also no, don’t sit here. Yes, I do mind. No, you can’t stay. Yes, go away_. Luckily, she’s just about out of emotions at this point, so she deadpans, “Hot take alert.”

Ben looks away again, his expression something like exasperation. “No, it’s— _ugh_.” He huffs another sigh. “I can’t even follow it at this point. All those plot twists trying to explain the origins of things… I’m sure you have to know all the minute details of the whole franchise for it all to come together, and I _don’t_. I don’t get who it’s made for. _Space Opera_ fans—”

Rey interrupts him. “If you’re about to complain about _Space Opera_ fans, then let me tell you, I am the _wrong_ person to talk to.”

Ben drags a hand over his face, darting his eyes at her before closing them. “That’s… that came out wrong.”

“Okay.” Rey sets her mouth into a hard line, waiting for his explanation, but moments pass and he just stares out into the backyard. “What did you mean, then? You said you don’t like _Space Opera_.”

“No. But I do like…”  
  


The pause goes on and on. It’s frustrating, and the longer it stretches the longer Rey imagines all the terrible ways this could go. He might say he likes the ending. He might say he _likes_ Kira getting what she “deserved”—like all the nasty people on twitter. She braces herself on the step with both hands, preparing to stand and go back inside. But first she’s going to make him say whatever thing is caught in his throat. “You do like _what_?” she demands.

Ben gives her a wry half-smile, as if the words are bitter, and then he finishes the sentence. “Pretty girls who like _Space Opera_.”

Rey blanches.

Ben’s expression darkens. “Yeah, you know what, I’m literally never listening to Poe again.”

“Is this some dumb setup— _really_? _Really_?” Rey’s voice rises in pitch and before she knows it she’s on her feet, using the momentum from before to launch herself into the yard instead of up the stairs. “I’m going to—Poe has breathed his _last_ , let me tell you _what_.” She paces back and forth in front of him, glaring in the direction of the party. “He was there. He was fucking _there_ when you made it _abundantly_ clear—” she shoots Ben a glare, but thinks that thought is best left unfinished.

Ben looks like he’s trying not to meet her eyes, resting both elbows on his knees in a way that seems defeated. He looks up again momentarily, saying with a little shrug, “For what it’s worth, I think Kira deserved better.”

There’s literally no other way for her to look even more ridiculous than she already does, so Rey leans into the momentum she’s already gathered. “You know what? Yes. _Shit_.”

And with that she launches into a complete diatribe. She tells Ben how the other characters don’t appreciate Kira’s rough past. How they don’t take into account that only evil forces would take her in when no one wanted her. How Kira, the closest thing in the series to a victim of abuse, becomes a pawn in the story, a means of proving something about legacy when her story could’ve gone a different way--when she could’ve been the proof that people who suffer can come to a happy end. It’s a full-on rant, surprisingly coherent for the out-of-control emotions she’s been feeling tonight, and Ben just listens, nodding, until the end, when she steps into his personal space and pokes her finger hard into his chest. “It was all about _money_ ,” she’s practically spitting when his hand covers hers, trapping it there, and she comes back into herself a little.

“Of course it is,” Ben says, his voice low and soothing.

Rey feels her face flush. He’s flattened her palm against his chest and his expression is almost tender, his eyes crinkled at the corners. She tries to keep blustering at him, but instead her voice comes out small: “Are you laughing at me?”

“Never,” he says, squeezing her hand where it’s splayed against his chest. Rey notices how solid his muscle feels and remembers vividly the day they ran into him at the rec. Her mind wanders, trying to imagine just how toned he really is—“You’ve just made me forget to be nervous.”

“Nervous?”

He drops their eye contact, half his face is still lit by the light pouring out of the house. “I… don’t know how to talk to you. It’s like looking into the sun. That’s why Poe keeps giving me lines. He says if I have a plan it’ll go better, but…” Ben shakes his head.

“So… that night I met you, you weren’t trying to ignore me…?”

Ben looks up at her again. “I was petrified.”

“ _How_?” Rey squeaks.

“I just don’t know how—”

“You could have _any_ girl, looking like that!”

“—to talk to girls, okay?”

Ben registers Rey’s interruption late, blinking at her in surprise. Rey goes a bit pink, but it’s full steam ahead now. “I already liked you. There was nothing you could do to make me—okay, well, _one_ thing you could’ve done to discourage me.”

“And what’s that?”

Rey moves her hand against his chest, giving him a gentle pat. “Ignore me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well.” Ben sighs a little shakily, his hand tightening over hers. “Where do we go from here, Kira Ren?”

“Wait, no. _Two_ things,” Rey says, pulling her hand away fully and taking a step back.

Ben holds his palms up in surrender. “Don’t tell me I’ve done the other one, too.”

“Only you can tell. Answer wrongly or we’re done,” Rey crosses her arms in a challenge. She’s joking. Half-joking. Ok, _not really_ joking. “The kiss between Kira and Kylo: platonic or romantic?”

Ben stands up then, moving suddenly into her space, and Rey almost steps back. She can feel the warmth radiating off of his body as she tilts her head back to try to see his face. He smells like cologne and soap—an earthy, manly smell—and her heart leaps into her throat. She freezes in place, waiting.

“Well, let me see,” Ben says, slowly lifting his hands to hover on either side of her face—at which point she realizes _he’s going to reenact it_. “May I?” She can barely hear his voice over the sound of her heartbeat in her own ears, can barely find the breath to answer.

Rey nods mutely.

Ben’s hands land on either side of her face, cupping it, and she has only a moment to register the mischievous sparkle in his eyes before he leans in for the kiss. It’s brief—a press of lips followed by a brief open-mouthed caress—before he pulls back far enough to speak. “Definitely rom—”

Rey reaches her hands up to his neck, pulling him back to her. She doesn’t let him finish.


End file.
